Lost Child
by Ezaria Blue-O
Summary: He looked at the red liquid dripping off the almost white steel of his blade and felt compelled to lift it up and lick the thick hot fluid off. So he did, "You're a rather scary boy aren't you?" a voice bluntly stated. He whipped his head around, blood resting on his lips and flowing down his neck, none of it his. OC based Fiction, filled with crack just for you! Enjoy! :)


AN: Okay, so here is my first completely OC fiction. This story will (probably) not involve Ichigo or any of the others as it is set way back in the past when shinji and urahara and everyone else were still captains and Aizen was a fresh new lieutenant. So I hope you'll enjoy this story a little bit! ^.^

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach, or any of its characters. I _**DO**_ own the plot for this story, the Tachibana, Minamoto, and Taira families, and any original characters (Like Fuu-baa-chan) that pop up within the story.

Rated: M

…

"_It's disgraceful, quit scampering around so flamboyantly, Captain-san."_

_The two men traded a glance of calculation before one stated, "Cero." Producing one strait from his neck._

"_Without a stance!?" the other shot out before it appeared he had been hit. _

"_That's why I told you not to run_..." and a blast of energy quickly stopped the other in his tracks, eyes wide, "…What's that…!?" the rush of energy towered over him, "What the hel-_

"Tama-chan~ It's time for brunch~!" an annoying voice rang clear throughout his small apartment. Tamashii gave off a loud frustrated groan as he blinked and banged his head against his keyboard, "Tama-chan~ Come on already, if your still reading those watch-ya-mah-call-it foreign picture books at 17, you seriously need to get laid, hunny~!"

"Okay, 1: Don't call me Tama-chan! 2: They're called MANGA, got it? M.A.N.G.A! 3: WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE AYAME?!" He shouted flipping the nearest table "Anime Style", a bad habit of his ever since he started loving anime. The dark red-haired woman pouted; giving him doe-eyes and a coy smile,

"Aww~ I knew it! You need to be shoved down on a bed and sexted upon!" She laughed, her silver eyes twinkling brighter when her childhood friend started throwing various objects at random towards her. It was always so fun to tease him because Ayame knew he had a soft-spot for her, otherwise he wouldn't react so dramatically to every annoying little thing she did. Tama-chan had always been gruff, tuff, sarcastic, and over-all just plain mean with everyone he met, ever since they were both 5, and Tamashii's parent's died when the plane he and they were riding, crashed into the sea. Nothing had been salvageable, it all sank and was lost, except him.

Ever since then, the only ones he would show his _"true" _emotions too, were her and those Japanese comic books.

"SHUT UP, SEXTING'S ONLY FOR PHONES MORON! And get outta my damn room!" He growled pushing her out the door much to the red-head's laughing protest, and locked her out of his "Fortress of Solitude".

Tamashii gave a huff, puffs of steam rising from his lips. The only time his air conditioning was on in this god forsaken apartment was when Ayame was here, and she turned it down until you could walk down the hallway and build a snowman on your way to the kitchen! But he turned it off right after she left every single time, just to get on her nerves a little. He smirked at that little fact that only the two of them knew, and walked over to his closet, he grabbed his "Casual Saturday Yukata", it was really only a tattered black Yukata that looked as if it had been chewed up by dogs and shat out, but it was still his lazy wear for Saturdays… since he never went anywhere.

He tugged it on over his mostly naked body, except for boxers, and then wrestled himself into warm sweat-pants. He subconsciously itched at the tribal tattoo of the large black dragon's head imprinted directly in the middle of his torso; two graceful, elegant flowers that rested on his left shoulder were the only other subjects of ink carved into his lightly tanned skin. He ran a free hand through his unruly, short brown hair and flexed his tight muscles from sitting in front of the computer for almost 7 hours. Ayame had always described him as someone who had a lean body but still looked obviously capable of holding a few heavy boxes in his lifetime. As he passed by the small mirror sitting on his table on his way out, he caught the reflection of his grey eyes, and paused, remembering his mother and quickly grabbing the pink flower patterned pinwheel hairpin that was lying in front of the reflective object and sliding it in just above his ear as if it were a pencil.

He trotted down the stairs, lazily tripping over a few flower pots here and there. Ayame was an avid gardener, and his whole apartment was like a mini green house. He didn't mind, though he wouldn't tell anyone, that there were a bunch of flowers cluttered all over his apartment, he actually liked flowers, again would never mention it, and enjoyed looking after them when Ayame wasn't there.

He sighed when he walked into the kitchen, smelling the crisp smell of bacon and the watery smell of eggs. He sat down at the table and leaned back, grabbing a sake cup full of apple juice and sipping it. Tamashii was odd like that, he could pretend all he wanted that he was drinking sake and it wouldn't change the fact that he preferred the tart/sweet relaxing flavor of apple juice more. He grabbed the remote to the T.V and turned it on, scrolling through the channels 'til he came across Pokémon: Diamond and Pearl. It was an older season, probably a re-run, but he was bored and it was a Saturday, so he clicked on the show and the famous appearance of Ash and the others came to life on the screen with the colors and enthusiasm that only a child would be captivated by.

He quickly sat up as five large plates full of bacon, hash browns, eggs, and pancakes were placed on the table in front of him. He loved Brunch; it was his favorite time of the weekend. His stomach gave a mighty roar, as if screaming a battle cry before he dug in, whisking away the food before Ayame even had a chance to take one bite of her smaller, two bacon strips and a side of eggs with one pancake, portion.

She giggled as she watched though. Saturday was the one day every week, Tamashii could let go of the tuff guy, military general's rebellious son attitude and let loose with his personality for a little while.

After brunch, Ayame packed up her little portable kitchen utensils and left some extra cooking she made as left-overs in Tamashii's fridge. She smiled and gave him a quick peck on the forehead, something she did every day when she was about to leave, and walked out the door with a,

"See you for Brunch tomorrow, Tama-chan~!"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" and he slammed the door with a huff. As soon as she left, he clammed up again, sliding down the door and closing his eyes with the satisfaction of absolute silence. A sort of peace, that he always felt when he was alone, washed over him and he sighed in bliss. He hated being around humans, it just wasn't as gratifying as being surrounded by nature.

He frowned when he heard footsteps approaching from behind, _'wait… wouldn't they be muffled through the door?' _But that was just it; the door felt… off, like it was _actual_ rough bark, not the smooth substance that doors were made of.

Tamashii's eyes flew open when the twittering of birds and the rustle of leafs in the wind sounded above his head.

'_What!?' _he was sitting in a clearing, back against a large old cherry blossom tree, and tall grass all around him. Tamashii's eyes widened, he couldn't remember dozing off before, but this couldn't be _real_.

"Hey! You, what do you think you're doing!?" He stood up with a start and whirled around, facing a group of men all wearing torn, worn out Yukata and brandishing various rusted farm tools or swords.

"What are yo-"

"This is the Bosses territory! If you think you can get away with trespassing on his land, especially with that sword o' yours, then you've got another thing comin'!" Tamashii couldn't figure out what the hell was happening. This was already one hell of a dream if these guys just popped up and started threatening him like that.

"What the hell are you guys talking about? What sword? And who the hell are you?" Tamashii grumbled out, giving them all an irritated scowl. He glanced to his side and there, leaning against the same tree he had rested against was a plain polished steel sword with a blossom pink hilt and two long ribbons of the same color twisted around elegantly with white floral patterns scrawled across the pink material.

As soon as he had his eyes on it he felt a voice whisper in the back of his head, soft and smooth, melodious even, but sounding like more of a hum instead of actual words, Tamashii clenched and un-clenched his hands, feeling an itching, burning need to grasp that hilt and wield the sharp edge, cutting down anyone that stood in his way, and slashing through his enemies.

'_What's going on here? How come this feeling I have… feels so real? Like I could die if I don't have that sword with me?'_ The thugs became nervous when they felt a large weight rolling off the mysterious teenager and pushing on their shoulders. The boy hadn't _looked _like he was a Shinigami, wearing the same tattered Yukata wear that most rukongai residents barely managed to keep on themselves. His even looked a little expensive with white faded firework patterns and a black cherry tree wood sheath resting on his hip.

They thought he was at least worth something, and that sword of his would definitely make their boss happy. Tamashii looked back and suddenly decided that dream or not, if these guys wanted to mess with him, he would have to teach them a lesson. Tamashii was captain of the Kendo and Judo clubs in his high school, he was fairly certain that he could take a few pompous brats.

All in the instant that it took for the thugs to decide how to attack, Tamashii sprinted forward with something that seemed faster than what a normal human would be able to achieve, wrapped his fingers tightly around the hilt of the sword, and swung it around slashing into the first of the three thugs.

After that, everything was a blur until he blinked and was standing covered in blood that felt _so real _he had to touch it just to believe it. He looked at the red liquid dripping off the almost white steel of his blade and felt compelled to lift it up and lick the thick hot fluid off. So he did, sliding his tongue along the blunt side of his sword with a satisfied hum.

"You're a rather scary boy aren't you?" a voice bluntly stated. He whipped his head around, blood resting on his lips and flowing down his neck, none of it his. There was a short, sweet looking old woman dressed in a very colorful kimono and a basket of flowers; brown hair similar to his own, greying and up in a strict bun, contradicting her seemingly 'laid-back' attitude. "Someone such as you shouldn't be standing within the borders of Kosuki Land, young man." Tamashii scowled at her, she was an old woman, but still a human, which put her on his hate list immediately,

"Tch… I can take care of myself, ya old hag!" He growled resting his blade on his right shoulder and turning away from the old woman. Big mistake; all in a second Tamashii was face-first on the ground, eating dirt with a 4 foot old woman standing on his back.

"Now, now, you shouldn't be so impolite to your elders' dearie… not all of us are sickly sweet bags of sugar and hugs!" she chirped with a matter-of-fact tone. Tamashii attempted to lift himself up and throw her off him, but instead could only manage to move his fingers a little, _'What the fuck did she do to me!?' _The old woman chuckled, but had a glint in her eye as she took in the boy's appearance. He greatly reminded her of some other young man she preciously knew and was quite fond of: Her grandson in fact, Kyoraku Shunsui.

"Oi! Get off of me old bat! You weigh like a thousand pounds dammit!" Tamashii snapped, except Shunsui wasn't nearly as rude or as angry inside. She remained in her spot, considering for a moment before asking,

"Will you be a good boy and behave when I do?" Tamashii was about to instantly let his mouth fly off with every curse word he knew, but bit his tongue instead. He just wanted this crazy old lady off of him already!

"Fine, dammit! Now get off!" He yielded, and groaned when he finally had the chance to roll onto his back and glare at the old woman with the young twinkling silver eyes. "Who are you anyway?" he muttered suspiciously as he sat up and rubbed at his sore back. The woman instead started walking in the direction she had come, scooping up the flower basket she had left on the ground on her way,

"We shall talk when we get you somewhere that you _won't _cause trouble and clean you up." Tamashii knew it wasn't an invite or a suggestion, it was an order. Frankly he didn't want to be squashed by Miss Mini-Bulldozer again, so he scrambled up, ungracefully slipping on the bloody grass, before grabbing his sword and running after her.

It was a long, awkward walk for Tamashii as he trailed quietly behind the old hag. It seemed like they had been walking for hours, and it didn't help that every time they passed a flower that she liked, she made him pick it for her. She hummed and glanced back at him, "I find it entertaining how you waste so much of your energy on paying attention to what I am doing, when you could be listening to the music hidden within the winds or the soft glow of the sunlight reflecting off the surface of a puddle on the side of the path." Tamashii paused, blinking when he realized she was right, and that led him to blushing furiously in embarrassment. She chuckled softly and sighed tiredly, normally she would be able to take a stroll through the woods without being _too_ worn out, but dealing with the boy had taken more energy than she usually had to give in a day.

Tamashii paused when the old woman came to a spot and turned to give him an amused, but tired look, "Hmm, young man, would you mind carrying me the rest of the way? It's not too much farther, but I'm afraid I'm not as energetic as I used to be." She offered as an explanation. He could tell that she _was _truthfully worn out and that pulled at his heart a little.

His mind shot back to an image of Ayame when they were little kids and she had sprained her ankle. She had tried to ignore it, much to his displeasure, until she collapsed and gave in when Tamashii demanded that she let him carry her. He shook his head to clear the memory and huffed in fake annoyance before kneeling down in front of the old woman.

She smiled at his cute display of being a gruff bastard and climbed on his back. He hefted her up, and sighed, "So… just keep going straight?" he asked sheepishly. The old woman nodded and once again they fell into silence, neither of them paying much attention to anything else but the sounds of nature swirling around them.

"What is your name young man? I never caught it."

"That's cause I never told you, you crazy hag-Oof!" he flinched as she swatted his head for the insult, "Geez okay!? Tamashii, dammit, my name's Tachibana Tamashii!" He grumbled. The old woman felt her heart stop for a clear moment when the name Tachibana hit her ears. She had only had one son and one daughter. Her son had gone on to marry and have two sons of his own, carrying on the family name, whereas her beloved daughter married into the Noble Tachibana Branch Family and had later discovered that she could not have children of her own.

The old woman knew, if she brought this boy back with her, the Tachibana Head would adopt him as his blood related "Lost Child" and that in turn would make her daughter the happiest that she'd have been in a long time. The old woman smiled at that thought, the boy certainly didn't _act_ like a Tachibana, not entirely, but they could work on attitude later.

"Well, little Tamashii," He growled at that, "My name is Fuuko, Kyoraku Fuuko."

…

AN: Hope you liked it, and please try to review! I can't improve my writing skills unless someone tells me what's good or bad about them, and questions and suggestions are entirely welcome! Until next chapter!

Love~ Blue-O


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